


(He's Got) Pretty Persuasion

by nightgardening



Category: R.E.M. (Band)
Genre: 80's Music, Bisexual Male Character, Canon LGBTQ Character, First Time, Fluff, Gay, Georgia, M/M, Music, POV Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22223710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightgardening/pseuds/nightgardening
Summary: Mike Mills and Michael Stipe, future members of R.E.M., meet in 1979 at a Love Tractor show at Tyrone's OC on a hot September night in Athens Georgia. Even though Mike thinks he's straight, the moonlight and music will make him think of Michael in ways he's never thought of men before.
Relationships: Michael Stipe/Mike Mills
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	1. Nightswimming

It’s dark in Tyrone’s OC. Dark and warm, packed with pulsating bodies.

As Love Tractor reaches the end of another one of their six-minute long instrumentals, introverted young music fan Michael Stipe heads for the door to take a smoke, and to get a reprieve from the 104-degree heat. 

He sneaks out the back and, after inhaling the warmish, muggy air, reaches in his pocket for a smoke. His pack is empty. He shakes it, comically and begins to go back inside. 

“Hey man, have one of mine,” A voice in the darkness says.  
Michael looks around and his eyes fall on a young man leaning against a wall. He has a boyish bowl cut and is wearing horn-rimmed glasses.  
“Thanks, dude.” Michael replies as he strolls over, smiling with gratitude. He takes the cigarette and is about to reach his hand into his pocket for his lighter, but the man is already holding his out.  
“Wanna light?” He asks with a glint in his eye. Without waiting for a response, he flicks it on and holds the flame close to Michael. With the man so close to him, Michael feels self-conscious about his breathing, still heavy and audible from dancing. He angles his head down to catch the light, then leans back against the wall and begins to smoke.

After a few moments, he asks the man: “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. Have we met?”  
“That’s funny. I’ve seen you, a few times actually.”  
“Oh, sorry. I uhhh look at my feet a lot.”  
The man laughs. “No hard feelings, man. Anyway, I’m Mike.”  
“What a coincidence! My name’s Michael.” Michael giggles a little.  
They shake hands, comically exaggerating the anachronistic greeting.  
“Do you go to school here, Mike?” 

“Yeah. I moved here from Macon with my friend, Bill, a few months ago. He’s the drummer in Love Tractor, that’s why I’m here.”  
He leans down to pick up a bottle by his feet and takes a large swig.  
“And the 80-cent beer, of course.” He smiles, a wide mouthed smile.  
“Do you go to UGA too?”

“I sure do,” Michael replies cheerily. “I’m taking art - painting and photography.”  
“Oh cool, an artist. Man, I wish I were one of you artistic types. I play bass, that’s all.”  
“That’s great. You in a band?”  
“I was, a few times. Not currently though. Bill and I live together, so we jam sometimes. I wanna join one though. The whole scene here is so great.”  
“Yeah, it sure is. I’m here almost every Saturday. Hopefully I’ll see you up on stage soon.”  
A gentle silence follows. Michael finds it hard to monologue; he speaks in clipped sentences in a deep murmur. Mike, on the other hand, is drunk and bubbly, and eager to find out more about the mysterious curly-haired boy who’s out smoking alone while everyone else is dancing inside. He starts the conversation again.  
“So, where you from?”  
“I was born here, in Georgia. My dad’s in the military, so I moved around a lot as a kid. I lived in Germany when I was really young. But just moved here from St. Louis a little while back.”  
“It takes a while to get used to the weather, huh. A little warmer than Missouri, that’s for sure,” Mike says, trying to engage in small talk. His comment makes Michael notice how hot it is.  
“It’s so damn hot here. I wanna tear my skin off. I just can’t find a way to cool down.”  
Mike smiles. “Oh, I know I way to cool down alright.”  
Michael is puzzled. “Really?”  
“Yeah, but we gotta go quick. It’s not exactly a secret. Follow me.” Mike extinguishes his cigarette by crushing it under his heel into the dirt and concrete. He takes one more swig from his beer, and gingerly places it back on the ground before turning and walking away. Michael follows him. 

...

“I can’t believe I didn’t know about this,” Michael mutters absentmindedly.  
They’re standing on the shore of a small lake, a pond, really, that took them 10 minutes on foot from Tyrone’s.  
“It’s a terribly kept secret, which is why we had to leave so fast. As soon as Love Tractor finishes playing, half the kids will come tearing down that road and into this lake. In a few minutes, the water will be as warm as the air from all that body heat,” Mike monologues, and then begins unbuttoning his shirt. Michael only nods and watches as Mike’s pasty chest is exposed to the light of the full moon. He’s not an athlete, that’s for sure, but college-student malnourishment and regular dancing have left his muscles defined without bulk. His shoulders and back ripple as he leans down and tugs on his sleeves. Michael is suddenly self-aware that’s he’s been watching Mike undress, and hastily crouches down to take off his sneakers. With a heat rising in his face he pulls off his t-shirt, and as he stands back up catches a glimpse of Mike, naked.  
His throat goes dry and he looks away. Mike notices his reaction and laughs. 

“C’mon, man you’ve never gone skinny dipping before?”  
“Um, no.” Michael replies, pointedly looking in the middle distance beside Mike’s head.  
“It’s the rules. It’s part of it,” Mike turns away and begins to walk toward the water.  
“Plus, do you wanna walk home in wet underwear?”  
Michael unfreezes and tries to tear off his jeans. Hopping on one leg, he manages to get them off, laying them neatly beside his shoes. After some hesitation, his boxers go next. Even naked, the heat is still oppressive. He runs to the water to catch up with Mike, who’s already splashing around with the water up to his chest. 

The water isn’t as cool as he expected, but it’s still a relief from the sticky humidity. Mike turns around as he hears Michael running in and they make eye contact. In a burst of confidence, the water only covering him up to his thighs, Michael holds his arms out beside him like Jesus on the cross and looks directly at Mike as he leans forward, falling face-first into the water. When he emerges, blinded with pondwater, he hears Mike shrieking as his last attempts to avoid the splash zone fizzle away. They look at eachother, and burst out laughing. Michael falls backward into the water this time, and looks up at the stars. It’s a clear night. Suddenly, he’s aware of Mike leaning over him, his hands cupped to hold water, poised to soak Michael’s face. Michael is startled by his sudden appearance in his field of vision, and jumps up violently. Everything happens quickly; Michael is aware of his forehead colliding with damp skin. 

“Fuck!” Mike yells as he staggers backward, clutching his nose with both hands.  
“Oh no, oh no I’m so sorry, it was an accident...” Michael murmurs frantically and glides toward him, worrying that he’s hurt. In pain, Mike acquiesces and lets Michael take him by the arms and guide him into the shallows, sitting him down in the soft pond muck under a few inches of water. He kneels beside Mike.  
“Here, let me,” Michael begins, and gingerly takes Mike’s hands away from his nose. He places his own hands on Mike’s face, gently tilting it back to slow any blood flow. He feels around the cartilage of the nose, carefully touching the bones around it, checking if it’s bent or broken. After a few moments, he breathes a sigh of relief. 

“You’ll be okay, it’s not broken.” He realizes his hands are still cupping Mike’s face, and quickly drops them to his sides.  
“This hurts so fucking bad, man,” Mike moans.  
“I know- I’m sorry. I’m very skittish.” He laughs nervously. He is suddenly worried that Mike hates him, that he doesn’t think it was an accident. He realizes he cares very much what Mike thinks of him, what opinions he may hold. He realizes that he needs to do something to de-escalate the situation, to make him feel more comfortable, to make him feel cared for. 

Michael swiftly leans over and hugs him. Mike is stiff and surprised at first, but in a few moments his hands come up from his sides and slowly wrap around Michael, and his head tilts down from where he was looking at the heavens and falls gently on Michael’s shoulder. The two men grip eachother tighter.  
“I’m sorry,” Michael whispers.  
“It’s okay,” Mike whispers back, and he means it. He doesn’t want the moment to end, so he nestles his head down between Michael’s shoulder and neck. He closes his eyes, and breathes in the scents of pond water and sweat from Michael’s skin and he is comforted. His blood seems warmer, his heart is beating faster.  
Michael feels the same way, as his large hands feel the muscles in Mike’s back. Mike’s response to the hug is promising; he is beginning to think Mike isn’t a typical UGA frat boy. Maybe the offer of a cigarette meant something more.

Michael had been to gay clubs in St. Louis and was no stranger to intimacy, to ‘cruising’ in sketchy neighbourhoods, to hastily shared kisses in alleyways and studio apartments of strange men. But this was different. Mike had no hankerchief sticking out of his pocket. He was wearing jeans and Chuck Taylor’s, not a leather vest. He was nearly hairless and looked to be about 15. Because of this, in a way, Michael was totally out of his element. And yet, here he was, clutching an injured boy in a muddy pond. Mike’s reaction, though, as he melted into Michael’s body, was promising.

Michael pulls away, slowly, letting his arms slowly travel from Mike’s back to his shoulders. He let’s them rest there, not really wanting to let go. Mike won’t look him in the eyes. They pause. He swallows, and places his own hand on Michael’s thigh. They both look at the hand, and then meet eachother’s eyes. Michael caresses Mike’s arm with his hand.  
“Is this okay...?” He whispers, afraid of the answer.  
“Yes,” Mike breathes, and clenches Michael’s thigh a bit tighter. Michael puts his hand on the back of his neck and draws him closer. They look at eachother, really examine eachother. They hold their breath.

Mike notices Michael’s long eyelashes, wet and bursting from his blue eyes like little supernovas. His cheeks are gaunt and stubbly, covered in five o’clock shadow, and his cleft chin juts out proudly from a strong jaw. 

Michael follows Mike’s neck, past his protruding adam’s apple, up to his round, deep-set eyes. His button nose protrudes over his tight, thin lips, white either from the moonlight or from his nervousness. 

Neither of them breathe. 

Michael, afraid to break the sanctity of the moment, begins to lean forward. Mike closes his eyes. He stretches out his neck, haltingly, and shifts to lean in closer. Michael can hear his breath, can feel his pulse in the back of his neck.

As their lips connect, clumsily, gently, Michael feels Mike shudder. 

This is the first time Mike has kissed a man. He should be afraid, but he isn’t. This strange, naked waif-like boy is kissing him, caressing him, and his mind goes blank with pleasure. He shuffles closer and grips his other hand around Michael’s lower back. His lips are more adventurous now, he presses his face so hard into Michael’s he’s afraid he’s hurting him.

Michael pulls back, slowly opening his eyes. He’s smiling.

“I liked that,” He murmurs in his deep monotone. All Mike can do is nod and kiss him again, this time faster. He feels Michael’s hand gripping the back of his neck, pulling him closer, his fingers reaching up into his hair and massaging his scalp. Mike moans into Michael’s mouth, then feels his cheeks and ears burning red as he blushes. He doesn’t want to stop, though, and instead lets Michael push him down in mud, down on his back. Michael’s hands are everywhere, all over his body, all at once.

Michael is surprised by how fervent Mike is acting. Michael lies atop him as he squirms, trying to make as much contact with Michael’s skin as possible. They kiss, gentle and slow and then fast and hard, alternating between the two. Mike isn’t violent, but he’s forceful and excitable, jittery and hungry for more. Michael hears voices in the distance, quiet drunken whoops echoing off the water. He pulls back. Mike, his eyes closed, breathing deeply groans,  
“Please don’t stop...” And tries to pull Michael back down. He does, with his deceptively thin arms, force Michael’s face down on his own. Michael wrenches free.  
“They’re coming. From Tyrone’s. I can hear them.” 

Mike swears under his breath. He twists on his belly and rinses himself off in the deeper water. Michael catches a glimpse of his back, completely covered in mud. Michael is less muddied but rinses himself off as well. In unison, the two men stumble onto the shore.  
“I can hear them now,” Mike says as he puts on his underwear. He sounds dejected. Michael takes that as a good sign. 

The men get dressed in silence, not wanting to spoil the moment they just shared.


	2. God Damn Your Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Michael make it back from the lake. Shenanigans ensue.

“So, this is your place?” Michael asks.   
“Yeah,” Mike says as he climbs the steps of his porch. “C’mon.”  
Michael obliges, leaning against the whitewashed siding as Mike fumbles in his pockets for his keys. He finds them, then glances around the street.   
“What’s wrong?” Michael asks.  
“Nothing,” Mike replies with his thin-lipped smile. He rushes toward Michael, pushing him against the wall. His head hits the siding with a thunk.  
“Ow,” Michael complains.   
“Sorry,” Mike says, “I guess we’re even now.” Michael laughs. He’s quieted when Mike presses his mouth against his own.  
“Mmmm, nice surprise. I’m glad that wasn’t a one-time thing.”  
“Shut up,” Mike says playfully, looking away in embarrassment “Let’s just go inside.”

“Nice place,” Michael comments once he’s in the foyer.  
“Here, I’ll give you a tour,” Mike stands in the hallway and begins pointing to various doors. “Kitchen, living room, bathroom, Bill’s room, my room.” He pushes open the door to his room to reveal a mattress on the floor, some stacks of books, a chair near a closet covered in clothes, and a bass guitar and amp in the far corner. He walks over to his mattress and turns on a small lamp on the section of floor that functions as a nighstand.   
“Fancy,” Michael comments, still in the doorframe.  
“Are you coming, or what?” Mike is already lying down.  
“Yeah, I am,” He goes and sits cross legged, facing Mike. “But I wanna talk first.”  
“What is there to talk about?”  
“Us.”  
“Do you do this with all the guys you sleep with?”  
“No.”  
“So why me?”  
“Because you’re... straight, or at least you were. I know how this works. You’re gonna sleep with me and if it ever gets out you’re going to say I drugged and seduced you and your frat boy buddies are gonna beat me up in an alleyway. And I don’t want that to happen.”  
“Yeah okay I haven’t...been with a guy before. But I would never do that to you, Michael,” Mike says.  
“Man, I met you an hour ago. I don’t even know your last name.”  
“It’s Mills. Mike Mills.”  
Michael chuckles. “Great. I’m Michael Stipe. Nice to meet you, sir.” He pauses. “Look, I wanna do this. You’re very cute with your whole schoolboy thing going on.”  
“Hey!” Mike protests, lightly punching him in the arm. Michael smiles and grabs his wrist. He maintains eye contact and places butterfly kisses on Mike’s knuckles.   
“How old are you, by the way?”  
Mike’s mouth is dry from the sensual kisses. “Uhh, 22.”  
“Wow, you don’t look it. I’m 20. Anyway, I want you to know what you’re getting into. And I want this to be secret. It’ll be better for both of us in the long run. Don’t tell Bill and don’t tell your girlfriend.” Michael softly but forcefully explains.   
“Yeah, okay. I promise.” Mike replies.  
“And I want you to know what you’re getting into. It’s not the same as with a girl.”  
“Yeah, that would make sense huh,”  
“Don’t be smart. I’m being nice. Look, I was... forced into a lot of stuff when I first got with a guy. I don’t want you to have that experience. You’re cute and naïve and I really don’t wanna hurt you.”  
“Oh man, c’mere,” Mike pulls him into a tight hug. “Thank you for being careful. But can we get on with it now?”

Michael responds by pushing Mike down unto the mattress and begins kissing him. Mike shuts up. Michael kisses down his jawline and up to his ear. His hands caress Mike all over.   
“I’ve wanted to have you since I first laid eyes on you.” He whispers as he begins to undo Mike’s shirt. Once it’s open, he kisses all the way down Mike’s chest, then begins to undo his jeans. Mike is paralyzed with excitement. Usually it’s him being the dominant one. Michael was right, it was different with a guy. Once his jeans are undone, Michael shimmies them off his hips and plants a kiss on his belly button before pulling them the rest of the way off. Michael stands up and Mike groans in protest.   
“Be patient, man.” Michael tuts as he pulls of his t-shirt. Mike watches and bites his lip. He hadn’t watched him strip at the lake. 

Michael gets his jeans off and dives back onto the bed. The both lie on their sides, smiling wanly at eachother. Their faces are so close their noses almost touch. They each reach up to eachother’s faces and kiss again. Mike is overwhelmed with a sensation of soft bliss. He can feel the stubble on Michael’s face scratching at him, but his lips are soft and full, like a girl’s. Suddenly the tenderness turns to passion, and Michael is on top, straddling Mike and making out with him with fervor. Again, his huge hands wander everywhere and Mike’s brain can barely keep up. Michael definitely knows what he’s doing; Mike feels overwhelmed, like he’s just along for the ride. Tentatively, he reaches his hands around to touch Michael’s ass through his boxers, just to caress it gently like he would do with one of his ex-girlfriends while she rode him. Michael moans into Mike’s mouth. 

Michael is surprised at how eager Mike is. He barely expected the moment in the lake to last, but now here he is, making out with a straight boy. Mike is good, too. He’s short and cute, Michael’s type. He removes his lips from Mike’s to breathe for a moment, and Mike grabs his hair and pulls him back.  
“Oh, I see how it is...” Michael begins, “God, you just want me so bad.”  
“Um, uh, yeah...” Mike is about to elaborate when he hears the front door open with a creak.

“FUCK!” He whisper-shouts. Michael rolls off of him.   
“That’s Bill?”  
Mike is covering his eyes with one hand.   
“Yes.” He groans. “He was supposed to be at a party for Love Tractor until the morning, but something must have gone wrong, which means he’s gonna come in here to complain about it to me.” Mike glances around and collects himself, the heady lust gone from his eyes. He tosses Michael a shirt from the floor. “Here, put this on.” He grabs another shirt for himself, and hastily puts it on. Lying back down, he arranges the pillows and puts about a foot of space between himself and Michael.  
“Just, don’t... look gay, alright?”   
Michael snorts. “Right, I’m the gay one.” Mike shoots him a look.   
“Okay, I’ll try.” He acquiesces gruffly.


	3. Gentlemen Don't Get Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

The door slams open and Bill enters, stumbling through the frame. He’s a short, stocky man, wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. It’s wet in strange patterns. He was at the lake, then, before coming here. He lumbers into the room, but in contrast to his entrance he grabs hold of the doorknob and very slowly, almost comically so, shuts the door with a gentle click. 

Neither Mike nor Michael has moved throughout this, and Mike just rolls his eyes as they watch Bill. He spins around and eyes both of them. 

“Mike, who’s that?” He slurs. Michael can see his monobrow furrowing as he squints, trying to make out the shapes in the darkness.

“A friend. His name’s Michael. C’mon over Bill, what’s wrong?”

Bill, his head dropping low, stumbles over to the mattress. He flops down right in between Mike and Michael, face first. He rubs his face deep into the pillow and starts to cry. Neither men know what to do; they look at Bill’s gently shaking torso and then back at eachother. Finally, Mike breaks the silence. 

“Aw, Bill, what happened?” He asks and begins rubbing Bill’s back. He murmurs something into the pillow. “I can’t hear you, Buddy.” He says, moving his head closer to Bills. Bill turns around to lie on his back. In the dim light of the singular lamp, Michael can see his eyes are red and puffy, snot beginning to drip from his nostrils. 

“She broke up with me,” He manages to get out through shaky breaths. Mike frowns and makes cooing noises, then wraps his arm around Bill and puts his head on his chest. Bill begins to sob more furiously, and Michael sees Mike tighten his hold on Bill. 

“Shhhhh, it’ll all be okay,” He says and gently wipes one of Bill’s tears away with his thumb.

Michael sits up and claps a hand on Bill’s shoulder. “I’m gonna go get you a glass of water.”

“Do you remember where the kitchen is?” Mike asks, snuggling up closer to Bill.

“I think I can find it.” Michael is already opening the door. Light from the streetlamps pours in through the only window visible from the hallway, and he heads toward it. Sure enough, it leads him to the living room, and to his left is a small kitchen. After opening three cabinets he finds some miscellaneous mugs. He pours himself a mug of water, chugs it, then refills it. As he’s leaving the kitchen, he thinks Mike might be thirsty as well as fills another mug for him. A car rumbles by and the headlights illuminate the kitchen. The shadows slide from one end to the other making the cheap cabinets look beautiful. Michael can see his reflection in the sink faucet, his hands a tiny convex detail bent out of proportion. He walks back to Mike’s room and kicks open the door. 

Mike has his chin on Bill’s chest but lifts his head up when Michael enters. 

“What took you so long?”

Michael leans back on the door to close it. “I got lost,” He smiles wanly. He goes and sits crossed legged on the mattress next to Bill. “Sit up, buddy, I got you this.” Bill obliges, slowly taking the mug of water offered to him. 

“Thanks, man,” He takes a sip. “Sorry, I forgot your name already.”

“It’s Michael.” He smiles awkwardly and realizes he’s still holding the other mug. He thinks he must look selfish. “Here Mike, this is for you.”

“Oh, thanks.” Mike smiles, very genuinely, and Michael can swear he sees him wink in the lamplight. They sip their water in silence. Bill has already chugged his and is giving it back to Michael before rolling over and shoving his face into the pillow again.

“I just didn’t think she’d make out with Jeremy...” He begins before breaking off into soft sobs. 

“Oh Bill,” Mike coos, not knowing quite else what to say.

“I’m so stupid, how could I have missed it- but how could Beth like him?” Bill continues through his tears.

“Who’s Beth?” Michael mouths exaggeratedly to Mike.

“His girlfriend.” Mike mouths back, his brow furrowed and his palms spread like Michael was the biggest idiot on the planet. Michael nods. 

“And she didn’t even have the fuckin’ decency to do it when I wasn’t there - I mean they just had to go at it right in the lake,” Bill wails. 

“Aw man, I-” Mike doesn’t know what to say. Instead, he presses himself against Bill’s back and holds him tight until his shaking subsides and his breathing gets quieter. Awkwardly, Michael glances around the room. His eyes are strained and his vision gets blurry as a wave of tiredness sweeps over him. The adrenaline sprouting from his chemistry with Mike is wavering. He lay down, deciding to face away from Bill in order to minimize unpleasantness when they woke up the next morning. As he settles in, he hears rustling from next to him. Soon after, he feels an arm appear over his torso, draping over his chest. He giggles when he realizes it’s Bill’s.

“Shhhhh...” Is heard from who he assumes is Mike. 

...

When Michael wakes up, Mike is still asleep, snoring loudly. Michael can’t decide if it was the snores or the twittering of birds outside that finally pulled him out of his sleep. He feels awful, dimly remembering continuously waking up throughout the night. He’s groggy, and it takes him a few moments to realize that Bill is absent. He decides to capitalize on this, and shifts closer to Mike. He looks so much younger without his glasses on. A little lamb. He never got a good look at him at the lake; not at his face, at least. He wonders how he can still be in a deep sleep, completely dead to the world, while the midday sun bores down on his face. Michael moves so close to his golden head that he can make out his eyelashes, blond and glowing from within from the sunlight. He finds himself counting them: 1,2,3...9...He grows tired of this when he begins to lose count. Numbers were always difficult for him. Pictures and shapes make more sense. A rumbling in his stomach pulls him upward and toward the smell of something burning. 

As he pads down the narrow hallway, both the smell and the sound of AM talk radio grow more insistent. He then realizes he has a headache; another unpleasant experience. He rounds the corner into the kitchen and comes upon Bill sitting at a chair beside the window watching a pan heat up. 

“Would you like some eggs?” Bill asks after a few moments.

“Yeah, thank you,” He replies. “You feeling better?”

Bill has nothing to say. He just grunts and walks over to the fridge. Michael listens to the radio. Everything seems very quiet.

“Good station you got here,” Michael says. Bill nods as he cracks eggs into a pan. “When does Mike usually get up?” 

“I don’t know what time it is,” Bill replies. “Watch is broken.”

They eat eggs in silence. 

“I guess I’ll go say goodbye to Mike, he was nice enough to let me sleep over. Drank too much last night,” Michael says as he abruptly rises from his chair. “Thanks for breakfast man.”  
Bill nods and smiles wanly.

Back in Mike’s room, the sunlight makes his headache worse. The bay window must face East. Michael stands stock still in the centre of the room for a moment before deciding to wake up Mike. 

He kneels down next to the mattress, hearing his knees crack. Mike is still snoring. Michael nudges him gently and he groans. He wants to laugh. He also wants to leave, or maybe he doesn’t, but his sister said that leaving before your host wakes up is rude. Her boyfriend did that once when she slept over and she was offended. Michael remembers her crying into his shoulder while they watched TV, her polyester Burger King uniform smelling of sweat and grease after her shift. He had to peel her off of him.

Mike wakes up, and Michael is back in Mike’s house and not his own. He realizes he doesn’t know where he is or how to get back home. Mike grumbles something that sounds like a hello. They both smile. There doesn’t seem like anything to say.   
“I should probably be going,” Michael gestures to the door. Mike nods. Throats are cleared. They each wonder, separately and for different reasons, if this had been a mistake. Michael starts toward the door when Mike finally says something. 

“You should come over again to give me back my shirt,” He grins and points at Michaels chest. 

“Sorry?”

“That’s my shirt. You put it on last night? When Bill came home.” He says this too loud. He worries. 

“Oh, right. What’s the number if I wanna drop you a line?”

“We don’t have a phone.” Mike says, propping himself up on his elbow. His glasses are still off and he fumbles for them unsuccessfully. 

“Guess I’ll see you at Tyrone’s then,”

“Or you could come by...” Mike insists. He has found his glasses.

“When Bill’s here?” Michael crouches down and says this in a whisper. 

“I don’t think he would care, considering how much he likes you.” 

“Weird. People usually don’t like me.”

Mike smiles and pulls Michael down for a long, slow kiss. 

“I like you,” He says he pulls away. 

Michael nods. “I like you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay guys! i do wanna continue this i'm just in a bit of a creative rut right now. Love you all :)


End file.
